


A Fate Most Fitting

by gssmlc



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Based On The Trevorrow Script, Chancellor Hux, Heavy Angst, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gssmlc/pseuds/gssmlc
Summary: The Resistance has won, Kylo Ren is cornered, the Star Destroyer fleet is destroyed.Chancellor Hux finds himself alone in his palace on Coruscant. For him, there is only one thing left to do. In his final moments, Hux reaches out in the Force, and finally gets an answer.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 12
Kudos: 86





	A Fate Most Fitting

**Author's Note:**

> ouchie

There’s something hauntingly beautiful about it. The ships, ducking and weaving through seas of debris. The city burning beneath the palace. The screaming, the explosions, all of it- it’s an eerie, beautiful symphony.

Hux almost wishes he were a part of it. Up there, on his precious Finalizer, in the thick of battle.

Instead, he peels himself away from the windows and sits down to make a list. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but if he’s going out, he’s going to be organized about it.

Step one is to look the part. Slowly, he gets himself ready- Hux spends a long while picking out his outfit, a delicate silken white robe, the First Order sigma embroidered proudly on its sleeves. He touches up his hair, applies a thin layer of ghostly white powder to his cheekbones, paints his lips a deep red.

He clips one of the lightsabers (Master Windu’s, his personal favorite) to his belt and strides out the doors. 

Step two is to make preparations. On the bridge he finds his most trusted officers, sending out troops of Stormtroopers and barricading the doors. It strikes Hux as foolish, humorous, even, that they’re even trying- the battle has been lost before it’s even begun.

He bites his tongue to hold in a sick, bitter laugh.

Hux finds Mitaka, frantically pacing and ordering his troops into battle.

“General,” Hux says lowly, making the man stop in his tracks. “Would you escort me to the throne room? I have a matter most important to discuss with you.” 

Mitaka nods, stiffly, firmly. “Yes, Chancellor.”’

As if it dawns on Mitaka what is about to occur, he falls silent, his eyes racing from side to side. The walk to the throne room has never been so tortuously slow.

Outside its double doors, Hux stops his most trusted officer with a hand on his arm. 

“I must ask you to do something, General. You are the only one I can trust.” Hux, gently, with great care, leads Mitaka to the station right beside the doors. “I need you to stand here. Do not let anyone in, or out. And no matter what you hear, you will not enter. Do you understand?”’

Mitaka furrows his brows, confusion evident. “Sir, I don’t-”’

“General, do you understand?” Hux leans in, slowly, until his lips are inches from the other man’s ear. “It’s over, Mitaka. It’s over. I’m going to end it before they can get to me.”

Mitaka reels back, horrified, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. “Sir, I cannot-”’

Hux stops his panic with one stern look. “Mitaka, you are the only one who can do this. Can I trust you or not?” 

After a long, painful moment, Mitaka pushes out a quiet, “yes, sir.”

“Good.” Hux draws the man in for a hug, or something close to it, feeling his shaking chest against his own. “I’m sorry it had to end like this, Mitaka. You were a good officer. A good man.”

And without another word, Hux forces himself into the throne room and locks the doors behind him.

Hux knows he does not have much time left, and so he works swiftly, efficiently. He had considered, at first, bringing a datapad and publicizing his death- a hologram sent out to all Resistance fighters, to show that he had died on his own terms.

But after all this, he thought he deserved a private death at least.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the ground, knelt in front of the throne. He laid out his materials- the lightsaber. A slip of paper. A pen.

Step three is to let his final words be known. He writes, writes like he never has before, until his hand aches and his manicured nails are chipped. He writes to no one, and to everyone, to himself, to Mitaka, to Sloane, to Phasma, to Ren. 

The final words stick with him, ring in his head.

_There is no balance without darkness. There is no peace without order. The First Order lives. The light prevails, and with it, darkness._

_Long live the Order._

He sets this aside, and then, in a moment of weakness, considers one last push.

Perhaps it doesn’t have to be over. Perhaps he does not have to die alone and afraid. Perhaps, if he could just reach inside of him-

Hux closes his eyes tightly until he feels it, that ball of energy in his chest. He reaches out to it, tries to control it, to harness its power. His lips set into a thin, focused line, his brows furrow deeply, his fists clench, nails digging into skin. 

When Hux opens his eyes, there is an image in front of him. Blue and shaky but his, and Hux feels true pride blossom in his chest. He could have done it all along.

He squints, and it becomes clearer. Kylo. Luke Skywalker. A thousand generations of Jedi surrounding him.

Kylo, lightsaber gone, stubble growing on his chin, face covered in cuts and scars and- burn marks?

Their eyes find each other, and Hux’s fingers find the lightsaber. He sees Ren, and Ren sees him, and for just a moment, it seems possible. Survival. Victory. All of it. Hux tastes it, sweet on his tongue.

Hux wants to say a lot of things. “I love you” would suffice, he thinks. It seems so possible, now, to just say those three words and have it be done and over with. He sees a million galaxies in Kylo’s eyes, he’s never seemed so attainable as he is now.

And then Luke ignites his saber, and with a groan Kylo falls to the ground. 

Step five is to do the deed. Without another thought, Hux plunges his own lightsaber into his gut. 

The image he’s created shudders along with him, a mere extension of himself. His blood spills red onto his robes, onto the letter, onto the pristine floor. Hux turns and crawls, slowly, achingly, without a care of looking foolish. 

For a moment, Hux thinks it’s over. That he won’t make it. The flights of stairs up to his treasured throne seems miles away. His hands claw desperately against smooth stone. 

But with some force, something Hux assumes is Ren’s doing, he makes it up to his throne, falls into it with a groan. He finds his crown and lifts it, with shaking fingers, places it on his head. 

He coughs into his hand, and it comes back stained red.

His eyes find Kylo’s once more, and he feels something being drained out of him. Not his own life, but Kylo’s. As if the two were connected all along.

Kylo is gone first, coughing and sputtering his way to a most dreadful death, vomiting blood and spit over his own body, until he fades into nothing and Hux is alone once more. The last thing he’ll see is Hux, and the chancellor thinks that that’s rather fitting. Die as you lived, they say. 

Hux looks up. Through the glass ceiling he sees it- TIEs and X-wings and even the Millennium Falcon. He sees Star Destroyers and somewhere, far away, the Finalizer. He sees it, all of it, for the first time, and the last, and it’s beautiful. Blissful.

He isn’t sad. Far from it. He’s happy, filled with a sick sort of glee.

He wonders whether history will remember him. Between Starkiller and his Stormtrooper program, his affair with the Lord Kylo Ren, his reign as Chancellor- he’s sure that he’ll be marked down in some book or another. He wonders if children will study him.

He wonders and he thinks and he laughs. Laughs. Until blood is spilling heavy from his mouth, a sea of red, a waterfall. 

Maker, it’s beautiful. All of it. If only he’d been able to see before. Why couldn’t he see?

Hux feels the darkness pulling at him, tugging, every bone in his body aches for release, and he finally succumbs.

The last thing he sees is the stars. The last thought he has is of Kylo. The last breath he gives marks the end of the war.

**Author's Note:**

> making extended eye contact through the force while simultaneously dying of respective lightsaber wounds is something that can actually be so personal


End file.
